Chapter 1

The crisp bite of the autumn air was the first thing to hit me, sharp and clean, smelling of decaying leaves, damp earth, and the faint, metallic tang of steel. I stepped off the gravel path, my boots crunching softly against the scattered pebbles, and let out a breath that plumed in the chill. The archery range was nestled deep within the old state park, a secluded enclave of towering oaks and maples whose leaves had turned a violent, beautiful shade of crimson and gold. Sunlight filtered through the canopy in dappled patches, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the stillness. It was quiet here, too quiet for a public event, which was exactly why I knew he would be alone. I walked toward the shooting lanes, the sound of my own heartbeat thumping in my ears, louder than the rustle of the wind in the branches above. The air smelled of pine resin and old wood. To my left, a line of massive, circular hay bales stood as targets, wrapped in colorful paper concentric circles that looked absurdly cheerful against the rugged, natural backdrop. I could hear the distant, rhythmic *thwip-thwip* of arrows finding their mark, a sound that